In Your Arms
by Fallen Ark Angel
Summary: Mirajane can't help, but to consider the absence of two very important people on one of the most important days of her life. - One-shot.


When Mirajane was a little girl, there was a lot going on in one sense, but a whole lot of nothing in another. They were poor and didn't have much, so many days felt the same and ran into one another. As her siblings were added, the food got even shorter and there were times when they were drinking nothing more than water with some sort of meat boiled in it and, if they were lucky, a hunk of potato. They didn't have much and constantly had to work for what they did. That mundane, bleak sense mixed with hard labor could destroy a family from the inside out.

Somehow though, it made theirs even closer.

They knew no better, her parents didn't, as they'd both grown up much the same as they were raising their children and there was a joy in the simplicity. In the rustic. They didn't have much, that was true, but they had more love in that tiny shack of theirs than many had in their mansions.

Mira wouldn't have traded it for the world.

One of her favorite things to do when she was young, after Elfman and Lisanna were snoozing in the bed they all three shared, was tumbling out of it herself and going to sit with her papa, out on their back porch or by the tiny fire place in their shack, and snuggle up real close to him. Her mother would always tell her to go back to bed, but Papa would only wave her off and hold Mira close and let her sit with him. He would frequently be tending to the blisters on his hands or rubbing at the sore parts in his shoulders.

It didn't stop him though from pulling her into his lap and holding her real close and telling her things. All sorts of things. Sometimes he'd tell her about what he'd done that day or what he had to do the next. Others though, he'd retell stories that most children heard growing up. About dragons and magic and the capital. Princes and princesses and all the adventures that others had. Others who weren't so poor and weren't so broken.

Other times though, he'd talk about more real things. From his childhood. He told her of his mother who could pop him one good outside his head, when he was goofing off too much. He told her about his father, that no good sum'o'bitch that left him when he was a boy. About the older brother he'd had, who went off to try and become a mage, to bring some money back home, only to be killed by a dark guild. The friend that lived not too far from him that drown in the river that once, that horrible, horrible season they had where rain just never seemed to stop. Ellerman was his last name. His father thought of that boy often. He was so strong, he said. Really put a scare in the kids that they all hung around. He could still remember the men in the village pulling his body from the waters.

Papa wanted his son to grow and be the man that Ellerman hadn't been able to.

For Mirajane though, he just wanted her to be happy.

It's what she was to him, he told her frequently. Happiness. And he knew that things weren't always happy, where they lived and what they had to do to get by, but one day, he swore, she'd be so happy. She'd get out of the town. Go to a big city. Do whatever she wanted. Have a big beautiful family. He didn't want her to always have to help take care of her siblings and he assured her many times that, eventually, her mother and him, well, they'd get it all sorted out. He promised her.

For Lisanna though, Papa just really wanted her to stop bringing so many dang pets to the house. From her many frogs she kept to the rabbits she tried to keep them all from skinning and eatin' when supplies got low, he just really wished she'd find something else to do other than care for every single living thing that crossed their paths.

Mirajane, even as a little girl, knew that mostly the man just wanted better for them than he had. Than their mother had. It was vicious disgusting cycle, poverty was. Hard to get out of. It takes a lot to beat it. But he had hope for them. For her, mostly, it seemed. As they all grew, he saw that Elfman was a bit daft, maybe, and Lisanna kind of soft, but Mirajane…

She knew that it was time tainting her memories and that Lisanna and Elfman probably felt the same ways about themselves, but in her mind, she'd always been her father's favorite. Always. It didn't mean he didn't love them, but it just meant that he enjoyed being around her a bit more.

Those nights she stayed up just a bit longer than her siblings, to be around him, really helped cement that.

It was so special, she felt. They probably all had something special with their father, honestly. Mira was the first born, Elfman was the boy, and Lisanna was all of their little baby. And she knew, too, that a lot of people loved the idea of men loving their sons more than their daughters. Especially in more impoverished areas. Maybe it was true. Mira didn't know. Maybe men were just able to see themselves in their sons more than daughters. To see themselves do something better than where they'd ended up. It made enough sense. But…

Elf was a great son. And Lisanna was a great little baby.

But Mirajane was always knew, just deep in her heart, that her father cared for her the most.

When she fell pregnant, she thought of her mother and father frequently, of course. She missed them dearly through the years, but knowing they'd never get to meet the little one growing inside of her…

It was rather depressing, really.

She liked to think that they'd be proud of her. For where she'd gotten in life. It was so far removed from the tiny shack they'd grown up in, when all they had was love. Now she had so much more, so many things she didn't even know were possible, but the love was still the most important. From her guild to her siblings to her husband, it all still held everything in place.

There were so many thoughts running through her head, the first time that she held her newborn. Her parents weren't hone of them, honestly. It wasn't until Master Makarov his turn at a hold that she first thought of how she wished they were there. She didn't even think she'd be where she was, even, if they'd lived, but if divinity and fate had any true relevance to life, then she knew it was all meant to be. So of course she would.

"Papa and Mother would be so happy," Elfman sobbed as Evergreen only held the child away from him, frowning at the man's theatrics the first time they met the little one. "Imagine, Mira. Imagine."

It was hard not to. She could see so much of their father in her brother (save, perhaps, all the tears) and even considered at times what they would think of her siblings. They'd probably be abhorred at some of Lisanna's antics and a bit taken aback by Elfman's strange girlfriend, but it was as her father told her so often.

As long as they were happy.

And Mirajane was that day, as her siblings and the Master visited with the newborn. Even if it was twinged with a question of what could have been. She knew that neither of her parents would have wanted such a special day marred by thoughts of them, but she couldn't help it.

She missed them just as much all those years later as she did as a young child, posed with the idea of having to raise two equally as young siblings all alone.

It wasn't until that night, when they child was at home for the first time and, of course, spent the entire time being unsettled and bothered by every little thing, that it really hit Mirajane. She'd fallen asleep, apparently, after setting the newborn in her crib once more, in the nursery rocking chair. She'd been waiting for the baby to start up again, knowing it was soon, but underestimated how tired she was, it seemed.

At the sound of her cries though, Mira sprang right back up of course, only to find that it was unnecessary this time. Her husband was there once more, lifting the child up to his arms, and cradling her softly.

"I got her, Lax," Mira yawned some as she pushed up. "I told you, I-"

"It's alright. Sit back down." He didn't glance back at the woman. "I think she likes me."

Mirajane only relaxed once more, into the chair, as she whispered, "Of course she does."

It seemed that the child only wanted reassurance that, yes, someone was still there with her and there were some cozy arms that would hold her gently and a voice to remind her that everything was okay. As the slayer shushed her cries and they turned into whimpers before nothing at all, the man only gave a rare grin for what would become the only person he shared those with.

"I never knew I wanted this," he told Mirajane as he stared down at the little girl he was cradling. "I knew you did and I didn't care, really, one way or the other, but this whole day, I just keep thinking…"

"About how I'm always right?" Mira joked gently as, with the child silent now, the man finally turned to face her.

It was only then that she saw how misty his usually dark eyes were and the look on his face wasn't one of much amazement, but rather something else. Something different. Something that didn't befall Laxus Dreyar often.

Shaking his head softly, he whispered, "About how much I wish my mother was here to see her. To see this. I wish she could hold her and know that...that..."

"It's okay, Lax." Mirajane stared him straight in the eyes as her own blue eyes welled with tears of her own. Not reaching up to wipe them away, she only whispered, "I do too."

He turned back to the crib and leaned down to gently place the child in there once more. She reached for him once more only settling out. As he watched this, Laxus finally rubbed at his eyes and sniffled, softly, as Mira waited.

"Whatever happens, Mira, we can't ever let this happen. To her. What happened to us. One of us has to be there. For her." The man finally turned from his daughter as he said, "I can't imagine her not having one of us."

"She will, dragon," Mirajane promised as she got to her feet, knowing that she had no way of knowing this. None whatsoever. "She'll be loved her entire life."

"Aye," he agreed with a nod as the woman came over to him and the man gently wrapped his arms around her. He could be so gentle when he wanted to be. He just rarely wanted to be. "But that has nothing to do with us living. Your parents still love you, Mira, wherever they are. Death doesn't change anything. They'd be so proud of you."

"Yeah," she agreed as she pulled back to stare up at him. Patting a hand gently on his chest, over his heart, she added, "So is your mother."

Mira was exhausted, of course, and Laxus finally convinced her to go lay down for a bit and let him deal with their baby, promising he'd get her when she was hungry once more. Still, Mira lingered for a few moments, by the crib, watching the baby snooze, before retreating off to her bed for, at the very least, a good twenty minutes or so.

When she thought of her husband tending to the child and her needs alone, she thought back to those late nights on the back porch step with her father. Who would hold her in his arms and tell her things. Anything. Everything. She never felt safer than when he was the one holding her.

She hoped one day, her daughter would feel the same way.


End file.
